He sighed. ‘Probably the same as you see. You can’t trust anything she says. She didn’t know what she was talking about with Ralph Hernandez and now she’s walking round the office like she owns it, turning up to every meeting. A sterling careerist.’
‘Oh, you noticed.’
‘And the truth is, I don’t even fancy her.’
‘You did well, then, you know, to sleep with someone you didn’t fancy.’
‘You’ve never had an anger shag?’
She nearly turned to him then. ‘A
‘I was angry with you. I was doing anything I could to get you out of my head. You’re in my head, Zoe. I can’t get you out. I wish I could, but I can’t.’
‘Sorry I’m not more impressed.’ She shook her head. Her neck was stiff and painful. As if she had a fever. ‘It’s just if I was fixated on someone the last thing I could do is sleep with someone else.’
‘Well, I’m a man and you’re a woman. So maybe you wouldn’t understand. And how the hell would you know what you could and couldn’t do? You’ve never been fixated on anyone in your life.’
She was silent, her teeth clenched so tight she thought they might crack. ‘Have you finished now?’ she murmured eventually.
‘Look at me, Zoe.’ He sat down opposite her.
She twisted her head further away, bent it slightly and pretended to be scratching her scalp.
‘Just look at me. Is that so difficult? Come on.’ He reached out and took her arm. She snatched it away, but he leaned forward and grabbed it again, this time brushing against the sunglasses, knocking them slightly. She fumbled up her free hand to push them back on, but he’d already seen. He sat back on the chair, the air knocked out of him. ‘
‘Shit, Ben.’ She sat with her head lowered, pressing the glasses against her face. ‘I mean, shit, I asked you not to come in.’
‘What the fuck happened to you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Really – it doesn’t matter.’
He slammed his hands on the table and stood up so he was towering above her. ‘Yes, it
She could feel herself trembling – could feel a cold, hard ball of something ease its way into her throat. ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ she said evenly.
‘Just tell me. Who did it? Where did you report it?’
‘I haven’t,’ she mumbled.
‘What?’
‘
Ben was silent for a long time. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’m going to report it.’ He was jabbing in a number. ‘Whoever did that needs to be spoken to.’
‘No.’ She made a lunge for the phone, throwing herself across the table.
He twisted away, holding it out of her reach. ‘Then tell me who did it. Or I report it.’
‘Please, Ben.’ She was definitely going to cry now. ‘Jesus. Just – please.’ She pushed her chair back with a squeal and stood up. Everything was spiralling away, getting out of control. ‘Just please,
‘Please what?’
‘Just please don’t,’ she begged. ‘Don’t call anyone.’
37
Sally felt like a wire stretched to its limit. She was shaking with tension and her jaw kept clicking as she drove, as if she was cold. The dark clouds had got even lower and were leaching a fine, almost invisible drizzle, but the lights were on in the windows when she arrived at the school, fighting the oncoming gloom. It looked so homely, the school, so normal that her throat tightened. That normality – the simple, unremarkable fact of doors closed, lights on, coats hanging on hooks and hockey boots lying in muddy heaps – all of that might never come back to her. She might have stepped out of its reach for ever.
She phoned and managed to catch Millie on her afternoon break. She said she could sneak out for a few minutes – no one would notice. Sally waited at the gate, clutching her umbrella. She couldn’t help checking around the street to make sure no one was watching her. She wasn’t good at hiding things – she didn’t know how people did it.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Millie’s expression was bright. But when she saw her mother’s face the smile dropped. ‘Oh. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. Are you?’
‘No, you’re not. What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ She ran her eyes over her daughter’s face and hair. She wanted to hold her so much. She wanted to just grab her and carry her somewhere far away from here. She swallowed hard, and said conversationally, ‘How did the test go?’
‘Oh, pants. I revised the wrong page. Doh…’
‘You’ve got prep after school tonight, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. Till five. Why?’
‘Because I don’t want you going home on your own tonight. I’m going to call Dad, get him to pick you up.’
‘He can’t. He’s in London.’
‘Then Isabelle.’
‘She’s at that gymnastics meet with Sophie. In Liverpool. It’s OK, Mum – I’ll get the bus. Don’t worry about me, I’ll-’
‘No! For heaven’s sake, will you
Millie blinked at her, shocked. Neither of them spoke for a moment, embarrassed by Sally’s sudden outburst. From the other side of the wall came the shrieks and yells of the other kids. They all believed they were grown-up, Sally thought, that they knew what they were doing – but they weren’t and they didn’t. Really and truly they were still babies. A car went by suddenly, its brakes screeching, and she jumped as if she’d been shot.
‘Mum?’ Millie frowned, her face curious. Suspicious. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then
‘I’m not going to work. I’m busy.’
‘Busy? Busy doing what?’
‘It doesn’t matter what.’ She put a hand to her head and pressed hard. She thought of Peter Cyrus’s mother. Dismissed the idea. Tried to think who else she could ask. Who else she could trust.
‘Mum? Is this about what we were saying this morning? About that Metalhead muppet again? Why are you so scared of him?’
‘I’m not. It’s nothing to do with him. Just stay in the school after prep. I’ll make sure someone’s there to pick you up.’
‘Come on, something’s wrong.’
‘It is
Millie shrank back a little, her mouth open. She looked for a moment as if she was going to say something, and Sally took a step forward, wanting to say sorry. But Millie turned on a heel and marched back inside the school
